


Be Gay, Do Crime. alternatively, stray origins.

by runrobin



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Dead Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson is Batman, Good Parent Selina Kyle, M/M, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Catlad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-15 12:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrobin/pseuds/runrobin
Summary: Tim Drake is a wreck. A goddamn wreck, actually. With the death of his father still fresh in his mind, his world starts to unravel around him until it all crashes and burns.Amid the ashes of Tim's dumpster fire of a miserable life, a glimmer of hope appears. And she comes, as if a ray of sunshine after a brutal winter, with a warm smile and a free waffle.





	1. make it make sense.

**Author's Note:**

> uuhhh this is my first fanfic so. be gentle?  
anyways: huge trigger warning for this chapter. blood, bugs, mental health shit, death... lots of nonsense and tims still reeling from it all.  
in summary: tims best friends are dead and yes hes avoiding all the other ones, bruce is dead, tim ran away (though in his mind, he was kicked out), and he's really upset about it.

Just three months ago, Tim's life crashed around him. It all felt like some cruel joke or sick fantasy. He often would pinch himself to make sure it was real, but even that brought him no solace. Much to his chagrin, he was awake and every reality check was more excruciating than the last.  
In order? Jack Drake, Tim's father, was killed by Captain Boomerang. The soil on his grave was still fresh when Bart Allen and Conner Kent, Tim's two best friends, were brutally murdered. Then, finally, as if it was the cherry on top, Bruce Wayne, Tim's adoptive "father" and lifetime role model, died at the hands of Darkseid. In the wake of Bruce's death, a war between Bats and Birds raged over a grieving Gotham. It was the Batman Legacy equivalent of a playground fight, except the lives of every single Gothamite hung in the balance. Many mistakes were made on all sides, but Tim prefered not to linger on those. For the sake of his sanity, of course.  
In the end: Dick became Batman, Jason went back to prison, Damian took Tim's job, anyone else involved dispersed to become their own people, and all Tim got was a batarang to the chest. After everything he did for Batman, _sacrificed_ for the Batfamily? Not even a consolation prize. He didn't expect a medal. Hell, he didn't want to be acknowledged for any of the 'good' he did. He never did.   
But to lose everything, all at once? Tim was broken beyond repair. Robin meant everything to him. Being Robin, especially. Jason was right: being Robin did give you magic, and Tim felt like he had it ripped right out of him. His body ached and longed for the missing half of it.  
He punched the mirror he was looking, _more like reminiscing_, into. He hated what he saw in his reflection. Tim was a mess. His hair was turning into a mullet from neglect, he had enormous bags under his eyes that they were often mistaken for bruises, he always had a mask hanging under his chin due to constant sickness, he stacked at least four different jackets and hoodies onto his mangled frame in order to stay warm during the horrible Gotham winter, and, worst of all, he could see the sadness in his eyes. It was like a thick, goopy, awful darkness that hung deep inside him, haunting him, and peeked out through his eyes. It disgusted him more than anything else.  
The smell of copper pulled him out of his daze. _Goddammit,_ he was bleeding. _A lot._ Tim rinsed the blood off in the sink, ignoring the mirror shards, then wrapped his hand with an old, torn up t-shirt he had and sat in the bathtub. It made him look crazy, but he didn't care. Rocking, crying, sitting in the bathtub comforted him for whatever reason and he needed that right now. Besides, it was leagues cleaner than the shitty, roach infested, motel bed. This was probably the last time he'd get to do it, anyways, so he should use it while he still can. He didn't have enough money to stay another night in this shitty hole in the wall. Pretty soon he'd have to crawl back to Dick.  
He wasn't hungry enough for that yet, though. Right now, Tim had options. And he would use them _after his tub nap._ He pulled at the edges of his hoodie, trying to conserve as much warmth as he could so he could at least _pretend_ he was sleeping in his bed and wrapped up in his favorite blanket. As he dozed off, Tim thought about his room at the manor and a cat sleeping at his feet. _His own little slice of heaven._


	2. brutal reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wakes up from his bathtub nap. Life still sucks, but hot waffles fix everything. Well, maybe not everything, but they certainly help.

Tim woke up a couple hours later. Maybe three, if he was generous. He never slept more than that, no matter how hard he tried. He sat up and pulled himself out of the tub. _Sigh. Great._ Now Tim had to come back to reality.  
He stuffed his clothes, along with a couple of "freebies" from the motel, like the extra sheets and little soaps, into his duffel bag. _Sure, stealing is wrong,_ but Tim didn't care about legal consequences anymore. The dirtbag running this hellhole could fine him if they could catch him. Besides, Tim was certain they hadn't washed the "linen" sheets since they put them there in '83. He seriously doubted that they'd be missing them. They'd probably _thank him_ for taking them off their hands. With that, Tim tosses the bag strap over his shoulder, pulls up his hood, and heads out. He returns his room key to the lady at the desk before he disappears again.  
Then, he went straight to the nearby diner. It was Gotham's version of a Waffle House, serving cheap and good food to all kinds of folks. They didn't mind that Tim looked and sounded like a depressed wreck. That's not to say that they didn't _notice_ that he looked like a pathetic piece of shit, but thet knew better than to ask questions. Especially not when he always has just enough for his meals. He pushed open the door and surveyed the room.  
Oddly enough, the restaurant was completely empty. It was just Tim. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him sigh in relief to know he wouldn't be observed and judged by a total stranger. He picked his favorite spot, in the far corner by two windows, and sat facing the door like he always did. This way, no one could get the jump on Tim. _Unless they broke the window,_ his brain responded immediately. _Wow!_ Something else Tim didn't want or need to think about.  
The waitress came up to his table a few minutes after he sat down. Her golden name badge said _Amanda_ in black text. It had a little pronouns sticker on it that said _she/her._ Tim smiled softly.  
"What can I get for you today, Alvin?"  
"Um, just some coffee and a waffle would be great, thanks."  
"No eggs this time?"  
"No, thank you, I'm not very hungry."  
Amanda's looked worried. Tim smiled wider, but she was not convinced. Regardless, she nodded and wrote down his order.  
"Great! I'll go get your coffee and your food will be done in a little bit, 'kay?" She placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid to holler if you need anything else."  
She took his menu and smiled at him before walking back to the kitchen. He sighed, then turned to watch out the window. It was signature Gotham rain, yet Tim always appreciated it like it had never rained before. He liked to lay his head against the windows so he could feel the rain beating against them. It _felt_ like he could, at least. He closed his eyes, _if only for a moment._  
"Can I sit here?"  
Tim's head perked up like a meerkat's. A hooded stranger was standing by his table, looking to him for approval without invading his space. Tim really didn't have the brain power to analyze them beyond that, so he didn't. He nodded slowly. They sat in front of him and pulled off their hood. Beneath it was Selina Kyle, her hair slick with rain and face twisted with worry and concern.  
"T— ..._Alvin_, baby. You don't look so good."  
Tim scoffed. He knew it was obvious, but _man_, she wasn't pulling _any_ punches.  
"Yeah, well. _Life_ hasn't been so good."  
"So I heard."  
Tim felt the paranoia demon that haunted him grip his shoulders and dig its claws into him. "_From?_  
Selina glanced beside them. She leaned back and smiled at Amanda, who was coming over with Tim's food. He pulled his eyes off of Selina to look up at Amanda. He didn't bother pretending to smile.  
"Thanks, 'manda."  
She grinned and gave him his plate and coffee, then left them to continue their conversation. Selina looked back at Tim, a fire burning behind her eyes. _Oh bother._  
"Dick told me you ran off after Bruce died and that your friends couldn't find you, but then I got word that you've been _living on the streets!_"  
As if Tim needed the reminder. He sulked over his waffle. "It's not like I have anywhere to go, Selina. I can't go back to the manor, all my friends think I'm overreacting, everyone else I trust is dead, my stepmom is still in the psych ward... It's all just so—"  
"Crazy?"  
"Yeah, exactly. Crazy. Absolutely _batshit_, even." He scoffed to himself at the irony of what he said. "My life is like the goddamn Gordian knot right now."  
Selina reached over and took Tim's untouched coffee. She added a few creams and sugars, then stirred it with his spoon. Without looking up, she spoke again. "And do you remember how they solved the Gordian knot, _Alvin?_"  
Tim felt her touch his hand kindly, gently. He held back tears as he looked up at her to meet her gaze. The look on her face was so warm and bright, like a ray of sunshine creaking through the curtains, even if her eyes were softened with worry. She smiled again and Tim felt like the sun was finally shining.  
"Why don't you come to my place, hm? I have a spare room, you can use my shower... Whatever you need."  
Tim felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He didn't feel cured perse, but he felt a little better. A little lighter. He sighed, smiled tiredly, then nodded again. He really wanted to sleep in a nice, clean bed again.  
"...Can I eat my waffle first?"  
Selina laughed and _God,_ Tim had long forgotten what a laugh sounded like but he didn't know it could sound so light and vibrant. She wiped his tears away and her hands felt warm against his cheeks. He didn't notice that he had been crying. "Of course, honey." She smiled as she took another drink of her _stolen_ coffee. Tim smiled too, for real and for the first time in a long while. He started eating his now cold waffle as fast as he could, too excited to eat normally. Tim was gonna sleep in a _bed_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL this was my first dialogue chapter.... things will be pretty slowgoing for now, but i PROMISE the timkon pining will happen soon. after i set things up with the first few chapters, of course. lol.


End file.
